


Blood on the snow

by redsprite



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV), Hogfather (2006)
Genre: At least it was fun writing, I swear it's fun, M/M, Minor Character Death, Rated for swearwords mostly, just some demons trying to get into the spirit of christmas, one of these fics that are too much fun writing, trying not to violate GO canon here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22175956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsprite/pseuds/redsprite
Summary: Santa Claus is unavaiable - at Christmas?But don't worry, a new Santa has taken on the red coat.He's not really made for this job, but he's determined, and he's doing his best.The world is probably doomed.+Nanny Ashtoreth tightened her grip around the poker.“I don’t know what’s going on,” she said, “But you can just leave, right now. And if you’re here on business reasons, I must say that this outfit is in incredibly bad taste!”“But this is my business tonight,” said Hastur. “Ho ho ho.”
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Hastur/Ligur (Good Omens), Nanny Ashtoreth & Brother Francis (Good Omens), Sergeant Shadwell & Madame Tracy (Good Omens)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea of a Hogfather/Good Omens Crossover, mainly because I find movie Susan very timid and not scary enough and thought "hey, Ashtoreth is kind of a governess, right?"
> 
> And once I knew who she'd inevitably find under the red coat on Christmas Eve, I couldn't not write it. 
> 
> The story mostly moves along the lines of the Hogfather movie adaptation, but took up its own dynamic so it could finish. 
> 
> I apologize to everyone who's waiting for updates on my other fics, but this idea has hijacked my brain. At least, I've been parallelly writing on the other stuff, too, and I hope all you readlings have fun!
> 
> Thanks to my betareader Rusty!

Four powerful figures with no clue of human life on Earth reviewed the situation.

“This time, he’s definitely gone too far.”

“I’m sure there’s a perfectly innocent explanation for it.”

“Whatever the explanation, we can’t allow it.”

“It’s time we put a stop to it.”

+

From one second to the other, Nanny Ashtoreth was wide awake. Had there been a sound? She wasn’t certain, but something wasn’t right. Something in this house… 

No! she thought. Not on Christmas Eve. No one will spoil Christmas for little Warlock!

With one fluid movement, she got up, put on her sunglasses and slipped into the black satin nightgown that hung over the chair next to her bed.

Without a sound, she tiptoed over to Warlock’s room. The boy sat upright in his bed, obviously as wide awake as her, but not from fear. On the contrary, his eyes shone with excitement.

“Nanny!” he whispered. “Santa is here! Downstairs!”

Nanny doubted it, doubted it very much. She and Harriet had conspired and put packages under the christmas tree when Warlock had fallen asleep, and then Harriet and Thad had gone to a formal christmas event. The staff had the evening off, except for some security who no one should have gotten past.

Would Brother Francis be daft enough to come into the house, dressed up as Santa? She wouldn’t put it past him, but he would do that when Warlock was awake, of course. Not in the middle of the night.

“Go back to sleep,” she whispered back. “It’s probably just the security guys patrolling the house.”

“What if it’s Santa!!!” whispered Warlock excitedly. He had declared all week that he was now old enough to know that it wasn’t Santa who brought the packages, but now, in the middle of the night, things were different. “I heard something from the roof, too! Maybe it’s his sleigh!”

“Stay here,” said Nanny Ashtoreth. “I’ll go have a look downstairs to see what’s going on.”

She decided against miracling the boy back to sleep, even though no seven year old boy would stay in bed for long if there was a chance to see Santa. But if these were burglars, or any other kind of danger, she wanted him awake and alert, to move him out of the house, quickly.

She didn’t really believe it, but then why had she woken up with a feeling of dread deep in her stomach?

Quiet as a mouse, and just as quick, she sneaked down the stairs. She was out side the door of the living-room when she heard muffled voices, and her blood froze. She knew those voices, and she would do everything to keep them away from Warlock! And she had to keep the security from interfering too, or they would be killed!

She looked around for a weapon, and there, by the door, leaned the poker she had forgotten earlier today, when Warlock had been afraid of a monster in the cellars, and she had gone down there with the poker firmly in hand, and had beaten the shit out of the bogeyman who thought he would be tolerated near her precious hellspawn.

The poker was solid iron, and felt good in her hand. It’d do.

She quietly opened the door, hoping to get the intruders by surprise.

But then the one surprised was her.

“What are you _doing_?” she snarled.

The tall figure in the long red coat and with the long white beard looked up from the glass of sherry he held. 

“Ho ho ho,” he said and grinned. “What does it look like?”

His assistant who wore a pointy green hat, grinned too. “Looking good tonight, Nanny Ashtoreth. Have you been nice, or are you a naughty one?”

Nanny Ashtoreth tightened her grip around the poker.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” she said, “But you can just leave, right now. And if you’re here on business reasons, I must say that this outfit is in incredibly bad taste!”

“But this is my business tonight,” said Hastur. “Ho ho ho.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't come up with that sleigh joke, but you have to admit it works so much better in a GO setting. You see what I'm dealing here. How could I not write this?

+

“Is that a pillow under your coat?” said Ashtoreth, poking the mid of the red coat with her poker.

“Ligur said it would help me get in the spirit.”

“The spirit of doing what exactly? What is going on?”

“Santa Claus is unavaiable,” said Hastur, while Ligur refilled their glasses with the sherry Harriet had put on the table for ‘Santa’. It had been one glass. Not two, plus the bottle. 

“At Christmas?”

“Yeah. He’s kind of… gone.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Got himself in trouble with his Head Office, I bet. But he can’t be gone, so we decided there has to be a replacement.”

“We? Who is we? Since when is Hell concerned with the business of saints?”

“See, there’s where you got it wrong!” said Hastur. “He’s more than just a saint.”

“And he’s always been working for both sides,” said Ligur. “Patron Saints of children and prostitutes. We owe him.”

“Hell owes no mortal,” said Ashtoreth. “Wait a minute, did he have a contract with you? Both of you?”

“Nah,” said Hastur, downing his sherry. “We wish. But he’s of that old fashioned sort of Saints. Didn’t make deals with demons. Problem is, none of the other Saints can take over. They’re all idiots up there. They can’t get it right. So we have to do it, at least tonight.”

“What, demons are here, bringing good cheer? Peace on Earth? All that?”

“See, you don’t get it either. Doesn’t matter. We have a checklist, we have a job to do, and there’s plenty of booze waiting for us in plenty of houses. Does Master Warlock believe in Santa?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, you better make sure. Ashtoreth, I’m serious. He needs to believe.”

“In a saint?”

“Not the Saint. The thing. The whole thing of it.”

“You’re not making sense, Duke Hastur. I need to know what’s going on here.”

“You’re a nanny. You should know what this all is about.”

“The birth of Jesus?”

Hastur and Ligur shook their heads. “You think we’d drum up belief for the other side?” asked Ligur, disgusted. “It’s about the blood! It’s always about the blood!”

“WHAT?”

“You just keep doing your job, and we do ours,” said Ligur, and his gaze lingered on Ashtoreth. “Make sure Master Warlock believes in Santa. Gotta say, in that outfit, with that poker, you’d make me believe quite a lot of things. What do you think, Hastur?”

Hastur huffed. “I think we should be going. Lots of little innocent children are waiting for Santa to come visit their homes.”

Ligur grinned. “Let’s go sleigh them!”

The idea that these two demons, famous for their bloodthirst and cruelty, were now being let loose on small children, made Ashtoreth’s blood run cold. 

“Duke Ligur, what the Heaven?!”

“That was a joke. Obviously. Just a pun, Satan, don’t get your pretty lacy knickers in a twist, Nanny,” said Ligur.

Hastur glared at them both. “Ho. Ho. Ho. Very funny, Ligur. Keep out of this, Ashtoreth. You know your duties. Let us do ours. We know what we’re doing.”

They vanished. And Ashtoreth really really wished that they wouldn’t know what they were doing. Because usually they were doing nothing good. And even more than that, Ashtoreth wished she knew what they were doing.

And that they hadn’t taken the bottle of sherry with them. 

“Bastards,” she murmured.

“Nanny, you said a bad word,” chirped a small voice from the door. Warlock sneaked inside the living-room and at his nanny’s side.

Nanny Ashtoreth cursed herself silently. She had never used any swearword in this house until this day, and of course the one time she forgot herself, Warlock would hear it.

“I’m sorry, Warlock,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said that. Santa’s Helper was a bit rude.”

“Was that really Santa?”

“Looks like we get a new Santa this year.”

“Yeah, right,” said Warlock, doubt in his voice.

Ashtoreth sighed. She didn’t know why it was so important that Warlock believed, but she would try.

“If he wasn’t Santa and his helper, then where did they go? They didn’t leave through the door, because you would have seen them leave. The room doesn’t have a chimney. I didn’t open a window. He has vanished in thin air. Santa has special powers, Warlock.”

Warlock wasn’t fully convinced yet, but then they heard a lot “Hiyaaaa!” from outside, and the sound of sleigh bells, from high in the air. Warlock ran to the window, peering outside.

He turned around, his eyes huge.

“That was them!”


	3. Chapter 3

It took a while before Warlock was calm enough to sleep again. Ashtoreth felt bad about it, but she left the house for a moment to get Francis from his gardener’s hut. But for this situation, she needed reinforcement.

They sat down in the kitchen, where Ashtoreth found some more sherry, that she miracled into some better sherry.

“Saint Nicholas is gone?” asked Francis, not quite understanding. “But how?”

“That’s not really the point,” hissed Ashtoreth. “The point is that we have two very powerful Dukes of Hell running his business now!”

“Yes, but why? Why would Heaven allow that? And where is Nicholas?”

“I don’t know, but we need to investigate this. Problem is, I don’t want to leave Warlock alone. What if they come back?”

“Do you have any reason to think they’ll come back?”

“Hhhhhngk!” Ashtoreth didn’t know how to tell Francis how incredibly unsettling this was. “We need to do something, angel! If something has happened to Santa, shouldn’t you be able to find out? He’s one of yours.”

“Well, there is always… the Archives.”

“Upstairs?”

“No… in… the Vatican.”

“What? You think we can just walk in there, like, excuse me, gentlemen, but my demon friend and I are looking for the notorious Santa.”

“Maybe… not exactly walk in there.”

“Angel? What are you not telling me?”

“I… might have a way to… access it… from my…”

He fell silent.

Ashtoreth laughed. “Your bookshop? Loots the Vatican Archives? Are you serious?”

“Of course I am!” squealed Aziraphale in distress. “That’s not a topic I would ever be frivolous about. And it’s not looting! I’m just sometimes making copies.”

“And you think you can copy something about Santa’s whereabout’s there?”

“It’s worth a try.”

“Yeah. If it doesn’t work, I’d rather not have to stage an impromptu heist in the most consecrated place in the world.”

“We’re not going to do that, Ashtoreth.”

“We’re not going to let Hastur and Ligur run Christmas, either.”

“Yes, that sounds like a nightmare.”

“They did make Warlock believe.”

“In Santa?”

“Yes. They were very adamant that he has to. Not in the saint. In the whole thing.”

“How peculiar.”

“Not the word I’d use. Come on. Let’s get to the bottom of this sherry before the Dowling parents come home, and then I’m off duty anyway, and we can go to see what the criminal energy of your bookshop can do.”

“Ashtoreth!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’d never insult the bookshop. The criminal energy is all yours, of course.”


	4. Chapter 4

Earlier that day, in one of London’s biggest toy stores, the manager of the store wished he’d never heard of Santa Claus before.

“These aren’t reindeers,” said a little boy reproachfully and eyed the big sleigh that had just crashlanded in the middle of a very nice Santa display and reduced it to rubble. In its stead stood a huge, crude sleigh, with huge beasts that were harnessed in front of it, panting and dirty, and rather smelly.

“No,” said Santa, who was also huge and smelly, and his coat and suit looked like it was actual fur. “They’re dogs. Because this year, I use a dog sleigh.”

“Why?” said the same boy. 

“Because they’re smart. Reindeer are kind of dumb.”

The boy nodded sagely. 

Other kids were coming closer, and they had so many questions.

“What are their names?”

Santa threw a questioning look at his Helper, but he was too busy biting the heads off a few gingerbread men, so he had to think quickly, trying to make the names a bit more… human-ish? Christmas-sy?

“Thunderstorm, Hail Sa... Hailstorm, Blizzard, Bitey, Slasher, and Death By Chocolate?” he tried.

The kids loved it. “Cooooool!”

“They’re as big as ponies!!”

“I have a heavy sleigh, I need strong dogs to pull it. Right?”

Santa smiled. He was honestly enjoying himself, with all the adults giving him disturbed looks and all the kids being in awe of him, and also seemingly having fun, their little eyes glittering mischievously. He could get used to that.

“Why do they have such big teeth?”

“To crush big bones. Big dogs, big food portions. With big bones in.”

“One of your dogs made a wee!”

“Yeah, they do that sometimes.”

“On the floor!”

“What, should they do it on the ceiling? Have it dripping down on us? Nah. Let them pee on the floor. Gotta be hygienic about it.”

+

“And what do you want for Christmas, small human?”

“Did you see what your dogs did? And I want a toy castle, and a sword!” said the girl on his lap, and Santa smiled broadly, reached into his big sack of presents, and gave the little girl the big shiny blade that was almost as long as she was.

“You can’t give her that! It’s not safe!” protested her mother.

“It’s a sword,” growled Hastur through his huge bushy white beard. “They’re not meant to be safe.”

“She’s a child!” hissed the toy store’s manager, who had become more nervous by the minute, watching this scraggly, smelly Santa give away an extraordinary amount of presents. 

Hastur was stumped for a moment, but Ligur whispered the answer to him, and Hastur grinned. “It’s educational,” he pronounced proudly.

“What if she cuts herself?”

“That will be an important lesson.”

“And she doesn’t want all that other stuff! She’s a girl!” intervened the girl’s mother, which earned her a side glance from her child that was so dark that Hastur chuckled. “And anyway, I can’t afford big, posh stuff like that.”

Hastur raised his eyebrows. He wasn’t used to humans talking back to him. “They’re presents. I’m Santa. I’m giving them away.”

“You’re what?!” hissed the manager. “They’re our merchandise.” 

Hastur’s black eyes glittered. Oh, this was going to be good.

+

“I think I’m getting the hang of this, Ligur. HO. HO. HO. This is our best Christmas yet.”

“You had that manager break into tears. He’s coiled up on the floor somewhere. Solid job.”

“Yeah. And the kids are fun. Never thought I’d enjoy working with kids. But have you seen the expression on their little faces?”

Ligur chuckled. “When they don’t know if they should laugh, cry, or wet their pants?”

“Exactly. Now that’s what I call belief.”

+

“Now that went all to plan, I’d say. There has to be enough belief by tomorrow morning.”

“It better be,” said Ligur. “Or there will be no tomorrow morning.”

Hastur chuckled. “Think of all the chaos and destruction that would be.”

Ligur put a hand on his arm. “Not this time, Hastur. Not yet. We need to keep it within The Big Plan.”

Hastur sighed deeply. “Unfortunately. Well, if we get it right, it’s not happening, and if we get it wrong, we’ll at least have fun with it. I don’t see how it goes against The Big Plan. Earth can just as well end after being in darkness for a few years.”

Ligur knew this was not what their assignment was about, but he couldn’t help admiring the demonic energy of it all. “We’d have to think of things to keep us warm.”

Hastur smiled. “You always have the best ideas.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Death-in-GO speaks in all caps, I know... but I couldn't bring myself to use that here. Because that's such a Death-in-Discworld thing to me, and they're different characters, and they talk differently. So I wrote a different way of speech for this Death, to keep the characters distinguishable.
> 
> And I gave Death-in-GO a name which isn't technically necessary, but I liked it! It makes it clearer how well they know each other.
> 
> This chapter also marks the point where the very Hogfather-ish story fully soaked up the Good Omens verse and starts to have its own dynamics. Because by making the Hogfather Saint Nicholas, some things are added to his characters that suddenly started to drive the story.  
> I had thought that this would be the difficult part of the story, but it's actually a part that I enjoy very much.

+

That night, in a bookshop in Soho, an angel and a demon were deep in discussion, with piles of books around them, and piles of notes.

“… just your basic winter demiurge? Blood on the snow, to make the sun come up? Animal sacrifices? And you think Santa has taken on that job? But why?”

Crowley made a noncommital head move. “He probably didn’t mean to. I mean. Saint Nicholas day is the 6th of December, not Christmas. But then, for some time, a LOT of kids, and I mean a LOT of them, start believing that he’s a Christmas spirit. He start embodying that, but the position of light and peace and happy angel choirs singing and all that has already been occupied by some baby. So he takes on some other sides of the season. That were, probably, floating around, waiting for… for an avatar of sorts.”

“Crowley, that doesn’t make sense. So he started as an animal sacrifice, and now he gives out presents? That’s not how saints work.”

“But what if the demons in Hell believe it? We have demons doing Santa’s job, trying to make kids believe. In whatever part of Christmas that isn’t Christ. If Santa himself hasn’t shifted the belief, they sure will.”

“That sounds terrible. To think that they’ll mess with something that Holy for it. It’s quite dangerous for them, isn’t it?”

“Eh,” said Crowley and shrugged. “They’re very reckless demons.”

“So what do we do if we want Santa back at his job?”

“Find him?”

“And if he’s really unavaiable?”

“I don’t know, but I know I don’t want Hastur to take over his job for good. With a Duke of Hell as an avatar of the darker side of winter, we’d probably be heading for another Ice Age or something.”

+

“What in four Archangel’s arsecramps is that,” said Hastur, looking down at the small corpse on the frozen stairs. “What’s this got to do with Christmas?”

“I don’t get it either,” said Ligur. “I mean, that’s a squander of a perfectly good murder. People just let her freeze to death without lifting a finger? In a back alley? With a hand full of matches? I get the irony of it, but seriously. Where’s the fun in that?”

“Why are we even here?”

“Just wanted to check something. It says on our to-do list that she’s supposed to happen. That it’s something super Christmassy. It’s traditional, sort of.”

“What?”

A dark robed figure emerged from the dark alley and answered.

“You Need To Settle Into The Christmas Traditions. She Represents A Story People Tell. By Pondering The Misery Of Others, People Are Supposed To Learn Humility And Gratitude Towards Their Creator.”

“Oh shut it, Azrael, no one asked you,” spat Ligur.

Hastur watched the small body with dismay.

“Do me a favour, Ligur,” he said. “If I ever show signs of being humble and grateful towards my maker, kick my fucking head in.”

Ligur nodded. “Likewise.”

Hastur turned to face Death. As an immortal being, he didn’t really have much to fear of him, even if his current corporation could be destroyed. Death was a resource mostly, and now that humanity had given him a shape and a voice, he could be a pretty annoying. Not really a collegue, although Hastur often worked hand in hand with him, and had done so often enough to know him quite well.

“What’s going on here, Azrael?” he asked the hooded figure. “Do you think the old Santa got depressed with all the street kids dying on his watch? Is that why he quit his job? Did he stop believing in himself?” Hastur poked the little body with his boot. “I mean I’m a demon, and this is depressing even for me. What kind of Santa am I supposed to be here? Patron saint of children, and they send me here to watch this?”

“Humanity Has All Kinds Of Ways To Deal With Their Mortality. Not All Of Them Are Well Advised,” said Death.

Hastur’s mouth set in a firm line, one that both Azrael and Ligur knew just too well.

“The list has it wrong,” he said, his voice in the high register of stress. “I bet Nick didn’t just let this happen. We’re going to do something about this.”

“Hastur,” said Death. “Let Her Go.”

“No!” barked Hastur at him. “You let her go. You can piss off here and let me do my job, or I’m going to make this your busiest Christmas ever. I bet the old Santa listened to you, and look what it got him. Early retirement, and the whole world about to sink into darkness. You don’t tell me how to be a saint, preaching to me over the dead body of this girl. I’m going to be a better Santa than those wankers up there, and you’re not going to stand in my way.”

“Hastur, It’s over. She Is Already Dead.”

Hastur kicked the small body hard in the ribs. “No, she’s not!” he yelled, and kicked her again. “I’m Santa! Watch me do some fucking miracles!”

The girl started coughing. A huge grin appeared on Hastur’s face. “Aaah,” he said. “There you have it. That’s how it’s done.”

Death pointed an accusing finger at him. “You Are Not Allowed To Do That.”

“But Santa is. And Santa gives presents. What better present than a few more miserable years in poverty out on the fucking streets before the whole world is ended?”

Ligur was getting a bit worried. Even a demon shouldn’t challenge Death.

“Hastur, it’s just a job for a day. You’re taking this too far.”

“No, Ligur. I’m not taking it far enough. If people believe that Santa can just walk away from this, it’s no wonder the old fart lost his job. We need just one night of belief, one single night, Ligur, and by Satan, we’re going to get it.”

He kneeled down and scooped the barely conscious girl up in his arms.

“I’m not leaving her here. If everything fails, she can still be dog food. But before that, let’s kick in some doors and spread some fucking charitable impulses in this world.”

He stood up, wrapped his fur coat close around the both of them and stared Death down.

“I said you can piss off, Azrael.”

“I’m Going To Complain About You.”

“Feel free.”

Hastur spat on the ground.

“Merry Christmas. Earth sucks so much. I can’t wait to level this place.”


	6. Chapter 6

A few hours later, at the bookshop, the phone in Crowley’s pocket came to life. Just the speakers, without a call.

“Ashtoreth?” whispered Ligur’s voice. “Ashtoreth, are you there?”

Crowley gave Aziraphale a panicked look and motioned him to be very quiet. Then he did a quick miracle to turn himself into the nanny again. “Yes, I’m here. What’s the matter? Are you already done with spreading Christmas cheer?”

“Shut up, Ashtoreth, this isn’t funny. This job is getting to us. Hastur’s this short of levelling the whole planet, but he’s keeping it together, Satan knows how, and for the last hours he’s been yelling at people about charity. Gotta say, he’s a better Santa than the original, but he’s not built for it. This is going to wreck him.”

“What happened?”

“Some little match girl happened. To the current patron saint of children.”

“Oh shitshitshitshit. See, that’s why demons shouldn’t do Christmasses. This shit is harsh!”

“It’s a bit late for that now, Ashtoreth. I didn’t call you because I needed a smartarse. Have you got any idea what the Heaven is going on here?”

“I actually do. I spent the night doing research. Let’s meet somewhere where we can get some decent coffee, and if that doesn’t help, some decent alcohol.”

+

“Is this… what it says on the cover?” asked Ligur and cautiously poked the book with a knife.

“Vatican Apostolic Archives? Not the original, no. Just a very decent, and most of all, a very recent copy, and it’s not blessed or anything. We can touch it.”

Ligur raised an eyebrow. “How did you get your hands on that?”

“I have a network of highly trained humans that I can put to work,” said Ashtoreth. “Wasn’t easy to get the right people the night before Christmas, but I can be very persuasive.”

Ligur grinned. “I always said so.”

Ashtoreth gave him an icy look. “Back to the problem at hand. You mentioned that this is about blood. I’ve researched the whole origin of this winter sun thing. I get it. I mean, humans have done weirder shit. But where is Santa?”

Ligur pointed at the pavement outside the cafe where a red robed figure yelled at every passersby about ‘fucking charity’ and ‘if I see one more child going hungry tonight, I’ll set every Christmas tree in the world on fucking HELLFIRE’. Most people just gave him and his sleigh with the six hellhounds a very wide berth, but there was still an astonishing lot of them who literally threw money at him, money that he then collected in what was definitely a human skull. Not all of the human had fully decomposed yet.

“Is that the match girl’s?” asked Ashtoreth horrified. 

“No, not fresh enough,” said Ligur. “And too big. Also, she lives. She was dead when we found her, but he kicked her in the ribs until her heart started beating again, told old Azrael to piss off, and that’s when he went on this whole charity frenzy. He did a Round Robin for her. That was fun.”

“A what?”

Ligur chuckled. “You should have seen him. Made my night. He kicked down the next door that smelled of money, gave them the girl and took one of their kids in exchange. Then we sleighed to another house and did the same. A kid for a kid. Then he started mixing it up, poor homes and rich homes, different cities, different countries, making it more interesting. I think it took him a few hundred houses to calm down. People were going insane all around us. It was mayhem.”

“I can imagine,” lied Ashtoreth through her teeth, who could not imagine Hastur on a charity frenzy, even if she had the proof right in front of the cafe. It just… didn’t make sense. “Wait a minute,” she said. “Shouldn’t you have ended with a spare kid? Where is that?”

“I was done with this whole kids business. We just dropped off the last kid with a family and didn’t take a new one. So, what’s this book say?”

Ashtoreth was grateful for the change of topic, and grateful to have something else to look than outside. She took out her notes.

“It looks like the original Santa was ‘decommissioned’ by ‘a high-ranking group of supervisers’, probably the Archangels. What did they tell you about him when you got the job? Why did you end up with the job in the first place?”

“Because we need to spill some blood, if people stop believing in Santa,” said Ligur. “And Upstairs is too Holy for that. They said that Santa had asked to be retired out of his own wish.”

“That's very unlikely.”

“I don’t know. We’ve done his job for one single day and we’re nearly done for. If I had to do this for centuries, I’d kill someone to get retirement. I mean I'd probably kill someone anyway, for my nerves, but retirement couldn't come too soon, I'm telling you. I'd jump at the first chance.”

“And leave the children of the world to a bunch of demons?”

“Believe me, after a while, this job numbs you down to the sentience of granite, or winds you up like Hastur out there. Patron saint of children, here on Earth, that’s going to finish you off in no time.”

“I guess,” said Ashtoreth with a sigh. “But where is he? Saint Nicholas, I mean?”

“You know saints go to Heaven.”

“But this is Christmas. Watching two Dukes of Hell do his job should lure him down here, don’t you think?”

Ligur shrugged. “I think we were pretty decent. As long as we don’t go feeding actual kids to the hounds, I don’t think he’s going to bother.”

His face lit up.

“Maybe that’s something we should try.”

Ashtoreth frowned. “Wait, who do you answer to? Who gave you this job? Lord Beelzebub?”

“Is there anyone else we’d take orders from?”

“Then you better not mess this up on purpose.”

“Shit.”

“Exactly.”

“You don’t, by any chance,” asked Ashtoreth very, very carefully, “know a demon who has some kind of… backchannel to Up There, who could ask around for us?”

“No,” said Ligur, his eyes fixed on his coffee. “If there is one, no one told me, because I’d have to take disciplinary measures and such. Curse of the high rank. Do you…?”

“No, no, not me,” said Ashtoreth. “I occasionally try to tempt the resident agent of Heaven, as you know. But he’s not very open to that kind of… cooperation. Never tells me anything.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“What are we going to do about Hastur? Should we… try to cool him down?”

“He’s technically doing his job. If he just sits with us being all depressed we’re not going to get anyone to believe anything.”

“While now they believe Santa is on drugs.”

“Better than nothing.”

“Right.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd only update this story around Christmas, but I went a while without posting anything, and that's not much fun, so you get the sort-of resolution for the Hogfather crossover now. I still have an epilogue to write that I can update before Christmas. Have fun! All hail Santa!

Ashtoreth gripped Ligur’s arm. 

“Don’t move,” she hissed.

“What’s wrong?”

“We’re having company. Looks like someone’s checking in on Santa.”

Ligur looked out through the window, where a man in a beige coat nodded along to Santa’s tirades.

“Ah,” said Ligur, and relaxed. “I figured they’d want to keep an eye on him. I hope he’s not trying anything weird, Hastur is not in the mood.”

“Looks like they’re just talking,” said Ashtoreth, who hadn’t relaxed at all. At all. What the Heaven was Aziraphale doing?

What he was doing was talk to Hastur, open his wallet and give Hastur a big amount of money. And a smile. One of those smiles you didn’t just give out to demons. Other demons at least. Hastur the least of the least! Ashtoreth did not approve.

Then Aziraphale turned to the pub and entered.

Ashtoreth jumped. “What the Heaven does he want here?”

Ligur patted her hand that still had a death grip around his arm. “Calm down, Ashtoreth. If I don’t like what he has to say, we’re going to have some fun. It’s three against one. What’s he going to do, eh?”

Yes, WHAT? thought Ashtoreth, still slightly panicking.

And Hastur was right behind Aziraphale? Why?

“All Hail Santa,” groaned Hastur as he dropped on a free chair at their table.

“Good evening, lady and men of disputable gentleness. ” added Aziraphale, not taking a seat, justing standing in front of their table. He should have been nervous. That he wasn’t made Ashtoreth in return very nervous. 

“If you have a few minutes, I’d like to discuss… _is that my book, Crowley?!?”_

For a moment, Ashtoreth was speechless. Of course it was Aziraphale’s book, he had given it to her, and why on Earth did he get her name wrong, which never had… aaah. The dramatic eyes. Aziraphale was being _devious._

Oh fuck.

“No, it’s not,” she automatically answered. 

Aziraphale opened the book and stared at the exlibris. “It has my name in it. Were you in _my bookshop_? Did you take one of _my books?”_

“I didn’t take it. Course not. Like I’d ever. Bought if off a shady guy just this evening. Didn’t have the faintest idea where he got it from. ‘s just a lousy copy anyway.”

With a sour face Aziraphale closed the book again and rolled his eyes. Dramatically. For some reason, the two Dukes didn’t seem to find it unusual. Well. Luckily, they didn’t know what counted for usual with Aziraphale. “I’ll overlook it for now, because we have a bigger problem at hand. As I said, I’d like to discuss the current Santa situation.”

“That’s me,” said Hastur. “You have a problem with me?”

“No, your Disgrace,” said Aziraphale. “I told you already, you’re doing exceptionally well. I’m impressed.”

Hastur’s beard moved where it hid his mouth and his eyes crinkled with a proud smile.

“Sit down, Principality Aziraphale,” said Ligur. “I want to hear what you have to say. It better be good.”

“He’s an angel, what he says is good by default,” snorted Ashtoreth.

“Let’s hear it then.”

Aziraphale sat down and took his scarf off. His smile was too bright, too smug, but his hands held very firmly onto the scarf in his lap.

“Well,” he said, “let me first state that I can absolutely not go against Heaven’s orders, or interfer with Heaven’s plans. Fortunately, in the case of Santa, I have not been given orders, or been told anything about Heaven’s intentions. I can’t cooperate with demons either, but luckily, I am sitting at the table with Santa, Santa’s Helper, and a respectable governess. That should do.”

“Good for you,” said Ligur. “So, what can all these respectable people do for you?”

The waitress came to their table and put a bowl of soup in front of Hastur. 

“I didn’t order that,” he said astonished.

She smiled. “On the house. You must be cold. Hope this’ll warm you up.”

Hastur looked at the soup. It was thick and brown and if he’d had arteries, this soup would have clogged them just from looking at it. He nodded approvingly.

“It’s the not cold air that gets at me,” he said. “It’s the coldness of all these people out there. What does that mean, they don't believe? Does anyone even care anymore these days?”

“Exactly,” said the waitress. “See, that’s why you made my night, Santa. In the telly, all these Santas are super sweet and all, always with the smiles and such. Always seemed wrong to me. I mean. A real saint would get mad at how things are, wouldn’t they? Especially Nicholas, who punched people when he got mad. Wouldn’t he be more like you?”

She looked at Ligur. “No offence, you look more the part, but he” she pointed at Hastur, “he lives it. Just really something about him, I guess, that makes me hopeful. Anything else I can bring you guys?”

“Sherry,” said Hastur, “I think I’m getting the hang of sherry. And Crystal, you made my night, too. I liked what you said.”

Crystal, who didn’t wear a name tag and hadn’t introduced herself with her name, suddenly was flustered, and quickly retreated to the bar, to look for sherry.

“Don’t spook her,” said Ashtoreth, “or we’ll get nothing to drink.”

“No, that was amazing,” breathed Aziraphale, who was sincerely in awe. 

Hastur huffed. “Just polished some old temptation skills,” he murmured and started drinking the soup right out of the bowl, submerging his white nicotine-stained moustache in it, making Aziraphale shudder.

“Back on topic,” said Ligur, “What did you want to talk about, Principality Aziraphale?”

To Ashtoreth’s horror, and also arousal, Aziraphale laid on the dramatic flair again. “I’m here to warn you, Santa and Santa’s Helper,” he said. “I think there’s evidence you’re being scammed. And I don’t like it when someone messes with a saint, so I’d like to suggest something we can do against that.”

Ligur’s eyes turned into an appreciative sequence of deep blue hues. “Go on.”

Aziraphale’s shoulders wiggled excitedly, and Ashtoreth’s breath hitched in her throat. Blessit, Aziraphale was good! Could it be he actually had found out something? Ligur was not stupid, and he looked an awful lot like he’d also come to some conclusions already. This could be interesting, and most of all, not deadly for a certain, absolutely indefensibly stupid angel who walked into a pub and faced three demons at once, thinking he could – do what exactly? Expect them to be reasonable and polite? Hastur? Easy to influence – Ligur? Not prone to sudden outbursts of frustrated rage – both of them? Ligur was right. This better be good, but if not, Ashtoreth would need to come up with a plan, and unfortunately, this time, blowing up the whole place wasn’t going to cut it.

Aziraphale started explaining how he found out that Santa had been ‘de-commissioned’, due to having acquired minor god status. “Which is frowned upon in Heaven, as you can imagine,” he said. “I’m entirely certain that Nicholas never intended to have his role fusioned with the god of winter solstice, but by gaining a new following at Christmas, instead of the traditional 6th of December, the dormant winter solstice believes might have latched onto him without him realizing in time. And so he became not only the saint we know, but also the winter god who makes the sun go up after the longest night of the year.”

Ligur nodded, Hastur harumphed some agreement, wiping his moustache clean on his sleeve. They knew this part obviously, and Aziraphale continued.

“The records don’t say that he was called back to Heaven though, which is interesting, but not entirely surprising. Nicholas was always one of those saints who remained on Earth at all times, and we can hope he’s still here. He’s not at his usual place of residence in Lapland, though. I called his office, and they had a lot to say about the new Santa, but didn’t know where the original went.”

Their sherry was served, and Ashtoreth’s skin crawled when the waitress gave Hastur quite the friendly smile. Hastur made a good spiteful saint indeed and Ashtoreth hated everything about it. Luckily, Ligur wasn’t thrilled either.

“Do you have a point, Principality?” he growled.

“My guess is that Heaven thinks demons would only perform the winter god parts, with the sacrifice of blood, but not the saint part, thus forcing a separation of those two aspects. It looks to me now though, seeing that a Duke of Hell would rather be a saint than separate that aspect from Nicholas’ powers, that this separation isn’t an easy one to make.

And I am very sorry to say that, but I’m afraid that might have been part of Heaven’s plan as well. This is…”

He swallowed. “This is really unfortunate. But if there is no more Santa, or if the traditional way to worship him won’t be strong enough, the winter god aspect seems to demand a sacrifice, to be made in his name.”

“Yeah,” said Hastur. “We know. That’s why I brought my Hounds. We’re going hunting if people let us down with their faith.”

Aziraphale nodded, then closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, it was to see Duke Ligur’s gaze firmly upon him. “I guess they left the job to you for a reason.”

Ligur tilted his head, but didn’t reply to that. 

Aziraphale took a sip of the sherry. It was terrible, but he could do with some internal fortification. “My question at the moment is, how long do you intend to do this?”

“Mm, one night,” said Hastur and gestured vaguely. “Christmas night. One night of belief is all we need.”

“And what about next year? How many years are you going to keep this up?”

Hastur shrugged. “I’ll do it a few years, and then we’ll see.”

Ligur did not like that answer. “We’re not doing this a day longer than we have to,” he said firmly, his eyes blazing in a warning red. 

Aziraphale nodded, and the dramatic eyeroll and too wide smile was back.

“My dear fellow co-conspirators, if I may be so bold. Do I understand you right that you also have an interest in getting the original Nicholas back into his position?”

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s not bold at all,” said Ligur, sarcasm dripping off his voice and probably corroding the floor boards underneath him. “As for Nicholas, I’d reinstate him this very second, if I could get a hold of him. This is not a job for a demon.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” said Hastur. “You have to admit I got the hang of this.”

“Hastur,” said Ligur with a warning in his voice. “Half a day and you already picked a fight with Azrael over this. What’s it going to be next?”

Hastur smiled. “Whatever it takes.”

“I know. That’s what I don’t like about this. You’re too good at this. Your talents are being exploited, Hastur. For what? Because Heaven is getting their knickers in a twist about a saint that got too popular? That should never have been our problem.”

“That kind of thing usually is our problem, sooner or later,” said Hastur.

“Yeah, and we usually don’t solve it by becoming saints ourselves. So, Principality Aziraphale, any ideas how to get our hands on Nicholas?”

The smile on Aziraphale’s face brightened so much that all three demons at the table started leaning away from him, two more than the third who had sunglasses on indoors for more than one reason.

“I found him.”

All three demons were astonished, one more than the other two.

“Really?? But… how?”

The Principality grinned the devious big smile again and wiggled his shoulders. “I’m an angel, I can find a saint if I put my mind to it. And not just my mind. I have human agents, you know.”

“So has Ashtoreth, but all they did was nick your book,” said Ligur.

Aziraphale gasped. “Crowley!”

“Yeah, yeah, back on topic,” said Ashtoreth and waved the embarassing moment away. “Where’s Nicholas?”

“I’m going to tell you, under the cover of strict secrecy of course, if you swear you’re going to give him his old position back right away,” said Aziraphale.

“The very first second I find him,” promised Ligur. “On my dishonour as a Duke.”

Aziraphale quickly checked if Ashtoreth signalled that a demon's dishonour would do, and when there was nothing but approval on Ashtoreth's face, nodded. “And you also need to promise me not to hurt the person who was tasked to hide him. Tasked from, well,” he rolled his eyes to the ceiling, “without my knowledge, I just happened to call him to set him onto the search, and he confessed the whole thing. He’s very upset about it and asked for help. He won’t give you any trouble. There’s no need for you to be rough with him.”

“Principality, we can’t promise you that. He needs to learn a lesson about not to mess with higher or lower powers,” said Ligur.

But Hastur grinned. “Aw, come on, Ligur, I’m the reigning Santa right now. We’re going to teach him a lesson, but he needs to believe, too, every tiny human brain counts, so we’re also going to gift him a nice Christmas miracle on top of it. Show the old bishop what a real demon can do with this job.”

Aziraphale’s triumphant smile lost a bit of its shine. “Well, I guess under the circumstances, that’s acceptable.”

He pushed a piece of paper with a hand-written address on it over the table.

Ligur smiled a joyless smile as he rose from his chair and took the paper. “Come on, Hastur, we’re done here.”

+

While Aziraphale was still in the pub to settle their bill and Hastur busy fussing with his sleighdogs and their harnesses, Ashtoreth had a quick word with Duke Ligur.

“I know it’s tempting with all the trouble you’re having with him, but don’t kill the actual Santa,” she pleaded. “Or the people who hide him.”

“No promises, but I’d rather have this saint sleighing around on Earth than see Hastur turn into one. And Ashroreth,” he said with a grin, “I get it. No need to pretend. That angel and you are totally fucking, right?

Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone. My Christmas present to you, because you helped us out with this mess, and corrupting an angel, well for once you act like an actual demon.”

Ashtoreth was actually speechless for a moment. “Thanks, I guess,” she growled. 

“It’s going to be great wank-fodder, no need to thank me,” grinned Ligur. 

Ashtoreth sighed. 

“There’s something I’ve been wondering about this whole winter god problem,” she said. “You told me that if this fails, blood will be spilled. Are you aware that if that fails, too, Hastur won’t have to make the sacrifice, but be the sacrifice? And what would your role in that case be?”

“Ashtoreth, Ashtoreth, Ashtoreth,” said Ligur and shook his head. “Always asking the wrong questions. Think about it this way. Who in their right minds would give me an assignment like this? No one.”

Ashtoreth felt a tiny bit relieved.

“Ah,” she said. 

“That’s why I volunteered,” said Ligur with a grin. It was not a nice grin, but this was Ligur, and his eyes would always betray his moods and intentions. Right now, his eye colors cycled through what Ashtoreth would rather die than match an emotion to but what she called “the Hastur sequence”, and this sequence was usually reserved for the moments between Hastur and Ligur, for Hastur making an inappropriate joke, or Ligur saying something suggestive, not caring who heard them, his eyes on Hastur only.

“As if I’d let anyone else touch him,” he said and shook his head. “It’s like you don’t even know me. You’re spending way too much time up here, Ashtoreth.”

Ashtoreth decided to drop this topic.

“All Hail Santa,” she said.

Ligur smiled. “All Hail Santa,” he said back, in a mocking tone, and went to follow Hastur, anywhere, as always.


End file.
